


Walk

by pawlluxcaptor



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Humanstuck, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sadness, light Rose/Kanaya, other ships possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawlluxcaptor/pseuds/pawlluxcaptor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat gets extremely fed up with his life so he decides to leave and restart somewhere new. Along the way he meets Sollux and his life is forever changed. Warning: This is going to have sadness. First fic ever, so I apologize in advance if it's not all that great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thursday afternoons are the worst; Karkat thought to himself as he stood high above his hometown. A thin gust of wind rushed past his face as he stared at the ground below. He now was beginning to regret how he didn’t decide to bring a jacket with him, but the current temperature wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He made his trips to the roof of his high school at all points of the year, so he’d experienced much worse weather conditions. However, it was early March; not exactly a good time to be wearing just a sweatshirt outdoors, but he needed some time to think, and the roof was the just about the only place he could do so without disruption.   
The roof was actually quite a serene place if you went there at the right time. Sure the typical frequenters of the place were the kids who just needed an out of sight spot to do only god knows what, but otherwise, it was the perfect sort of retreat for Karkat’s chaotic and predictable life. It was like a solitary confinement without the crazy. It was consistent; a never changing concrete slab atop a large brick structure, occasionally dotted with a discarded cigarette butt or wad of gum. A perfect place to think.  
As he paced across the grey landscape, folding his narrow arms across his frail frame in an attempt to preserve body heat, he thought. He didn’t ponder too hard or anything; he just let his mind flow. Most of his thoughts began to consist of the past eighteen years of his life. Eighteen fucking years. That’s too damn long to be trapped in this hell hole. He sorted through his memories, much like a stray animal picking through scraps in an attempt to salvage something decent. His thoughts came to his mother. Psycho bitch; he seethed in his mind. He loathed her. He really did. But it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it. He remembered how icy and cold she was. A simple hug was not given out of love, but purely as obligation to keep you from developing even more hatred towards her. Her laughter or lack thereof was shallow and monotonous. She was monotonous as a matter of fact; a human only capable of outright cruelty. A human with only one concern; herself.   
You’re worthless. Why can’t you do anything right? You little fuck up. Her words rang through his head like bells on a string; never quite ceasing and ringing at even the slightest push. You’re the reason your father left. That one always rang the loudest. Those words scratched the deepest and stung the most intensely. How long has it been since he left… Karkat tried to recall a time when his father was still actively present in his life, but as his thoughts drifted more and more towards him, he quickly averted them. He wasn’t about to walk on school grounds with bloodshot eyes and trembling breath.   
He pulled out his dinosaur of a cell phone and glanced at the time. 1:56, I’ve got about 20 minutes. Placing his phone back into his pocket, he walked over to the edge and sat himself down, leaning against the two foot high wall. Whilst sitting, he tried something different. He tried thinking about the future for once, instead of the past. But in retrospect, the past was much less intimidating than the future. At least with the past, he knew exactly what to expect; with the future, not so much.   
Soon enough, everyone would be graduating and heading off to their well paved lives that lie ahead. They’d become successful, they would be happy, yet Karkat knew he wouldn’t be. He wasn’t going to lie and convince himself that he would get accepted into any reputable school, for his GPA was about as low as they get. He was actually quite intelligent really; it was just that he had stopped trying long ago because he understood that no matter how well he did, he would never be able to escape what he had known for so long. He would always be Karkat Vantas. The child who’s mother could’ve done without him. The child who’s father hadn’t been heard from in years. The child who couldn’t amount to anything. The child who was always alone. The child who couldn’t look at anyone without an intent scowl. The child who was weak. The child who was afraid. Who was miserable. Who was lost. Those were the constants of his life which occurred over and over again like a broken record playing the most melancholy of music; a hopeless serenade which bound him to his lonely existence.   
His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bell ringing. Fuck. It’s already 2:15. He hoisted himself up, flicking some of his auburn hair out from his eyes, and started for the door. Though the dimly lit stairwell he went, eventually slipping into the crowd of exiting adolescents. With his shoulders bent forward and his gaze firmly locked on direction he was going, he walked. He didn’t once look up to see if anyone was waving at him or trying to catch his attention. Of course, who would be? He certainly didn’t survive high school by having an entourage of companions. He opted for the more introverted approach; staying as under the radar as possible. He had maybe three acquaintances that he could use to keep up the façade of not being completely antisocial, but even then, he definitely wasn’t considered someone you’d want to approach, let alone befriend.   
As he continued walking out the double doors of his prison, he continued down the usual streets he took to get home, and tried not to think too much about what it was going to be like once he got home. His mother wouldn’t be home most likely since she usually worked until four, so he’d have the next hour or so to himself. However as he rounded the corner, he noticed a silver Honda Civic parked in the driveway. Shit; he thought. She’s home early. He hoped that she had been let out early or that she wasn’t feeling well and decided to come home; but he knew better than to believe that.


	2. Chapter 2

Dread filled every ounce of him as he made his way up the stairs. The best thing he could possibly do right now was try not to think about whatever lay waiting for him beyond the security of his front porch. But there was no denying the imminent doom that would soon cross his path. He carefully twisted the door knob and quietly stepped inside, shutting the door with the slightest creak. Still remaining as silent as humanly achievable, he attempted to abscond up the stairs and into his room, but not before a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Where have you been?" the voice said dryly. It was the voice of his mother to be precise, which was as flat and numb as usual, yet now tinged with the slightest hint of anger.

He turned around to face her. She stood there with her arms folded tightly across her chest and her expression locked in a deep glare that was made only more prominent by years' worth of frown lines.

"School. Where the fuck else?" he said sarcastically.

"You might as well not have been," she retorted

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"You know perfectly damn well what it means," She snapped, "It means that you've been cutting class and now I have to take the time out of my day to tell you to get your act together before you have to repeat the twelfth grade." Now she was nearly screaming. "What the fuck is your problem? Are you trying to fail at every single thing you do?"

Karkat rolled his eyes out of sheer annoyance, for he knew the real reason she was so worked up. Today wasn't going to be the day his mother finally started caring about what went on in his life, that's for sure. It would've taken much more than a phone call from a guidance counselor to make that miracle occur. He understood that the only reason she was so furious was that she had to go out of her way to do something for him, even though she had completely brought the burden on herself since the issue could've definitely waited until four.

Karkat though, wasn't about to tell his mother that since she was already in such hysterics. Instead, he simply avoided the question by asking, "Since when did you care?"

However, what he replied with wasn't exactly the best choice of words either. Now she was furious.

"Since when have I cared? Since when have I cared?" she fumed.

"Yeah. I'd like to fucking know since when you cared," he demanded.

"Would you like to be reminded of how I single handedly raised your ungrateful ass? Or how I worked as hard as I could without a single 'Gee thanks mom'?"

That remark pushed Karkat off the deep end.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you remember all those times I'd wake up in the morning only to find you passed on the couch completely hung over and refusing to get up? Do you remember how the first time it happened was when I was only six years old? Do you remember how I had to figure out how to make myself dinner when I was seven years old because you stopped coming home from work? Do you fucking remember how I practically raised myself because you were too busy getting drunk off your ass to even care? No, you don't because you're too goddamn self centered to even acknowledge all the shit you pull. So don't call me 'ungrateful' because if anything, you should be grateful that I'm still alive after all the shit you put me through."

Smack. The sound rang through the house as her palm collided with his cheek. This wasn't anything he wasn't used to. These sort of physical outbursts were nearly a weekly event. As she retreated, Karkat lifted his hand to the raw spot on his cheek, wincing as he touched it. He slowly looked up to face his mother, her eyes shooting daggers and her mouth pursed tightly shut.

"I fucking hate you," he hissed.

Karkat had never once told his mother to her face he hated her. He had felt it in him for countless years but never had the audacity to say it. Now, after eighteen years of pent up resentment, he had finally snapped.

Her eye twitched as she comprehended her son's words, shaking with rage as she glowered at him. As she opened her mouth to speak, Karkat had already sprinted halfway up the stairs on his way to the protection of his room. However, not before he felt a blunt object crash with the back of his head.

He fell forward, losing his balance and falling into the stairs. As he attempted to regain his footing, he watched as his vision doubled and swerved, making his surroundings appear as though he were in a room filled with mirrors. He finally stood up, yet still hobbling around slightly, not daring to turn around, out of fear of having another object strike his face. With uncoordinated strides, he used what little strength he had left to travel to the sanctuary of his room, slamming and locking the door behind him. He stumbled onto his bed; wrapping his fingers around the spot he had been hit. His warm blood seeped between his appendages as he lied there motionless in an effort to make the pulsating pain in his skull cease.

Approximately ten minutes later, he summoned enough strength to rise once again, still feeling an intense throbbing sensation shoot through his head. He then walked over to the mirror in his room to assess the damage. His pale freckled cheek was an obnoxious shade of red with the edges of the afflicted area beginning to purple slightly, as well as it being still quite swollen. His head however, was in much worse condition. The hair near the wounded area was now matted and bloody in addition to the bloody streaks running down his neck in drastic contrast to his skin. He moved some his hair aside to reveal the severest of his injuries, an inch long gash that ran across his head about three inches above his nape. It was deep, but not enough to need stitches. Thank god; he thought to himself. His mother had already taken him to the hospital enough times; she wouldn't have been too keen on bringing him in once more.

Going back to lay on his bed, he thought once more. He tried to think about what he was going to say once he had to face his mother again, but no amount of apologizing was going to do him any good. Once his mother got into one of her tizzies, it was hard to get her out. His mother. He really hated her now. After the preceding events he was absolutely fed up. He could feel himself getting more and more agitated as he thought about her and what she had told him. Why are you so ungrateful? Those five words made him want to scream. Why should he have been grateful for a mother who could barely provide for him? Why should he have been grateful for a mother who didn't care about him and simultaneously lied about it as well? Why should he have been grateful for a mother who he didn't even need?

That's when it hit him. He didn't need her, and he never would. Before he could even plot what he was going to do he retrieved a black duffle bag from his closet and began tossing clothes into it. He rifled through his drawers, going over the pill bottles and clothing articles, obtaining only the essentials; which consisted of clean pairs of underwear and whatever wasn't going to take up too much space. As he sorted through his shirts he uncovered an envelope and looked inside. 1200 dollars. I guess shoveling snow for the past 8 years finally paid off. Karkat had never been very frivolous with his money, even when he wanted something, but maybe the only reason he had bothered to save so much was that he was subconsciously preparing for this moment all along. He then stuffed forty dollars in his wallet and shoved the envelope and its remaining contents into his bag.

Glancing around his room to see if he had forgotten anything, he noticed the 3x4 inch photograph lodged in the corner of his desk. It was old and worn at the corners, in addition to being quite faded. It was of him and his father. The only picture of him and his father. He picked it up and examined the two almost unknown people depicted. Karkat had to have been no more than five when it was taken, since his father left the January before he turned six. The little red haired boy was sitting on the much older man's shoulders, gripping his darker and grayer hair. Both were smiling with the most happy and lighthearted grins. They didn't appear to have a care in the world.

The picture had always made him feel sort of melancholy because it was strange to see his father in such a state of elatedness and joy. He figured his father would've been much grimmer and more detached. He abandoned him after all; at least the picture would've made sense if he looked as though he could've cared less about the boy in the photograph.

Karkat sighed heavily as he folded the picture in half and slid it into his pocket. He may have hated his father for leaving, but he still wanted to keep at least one good memory his childhood.

1:00 am. Time to go.

He cracked open his door to analyze his surroundings. The hallway was pitch black. Good; he thought. She's asleep. He slipped out the door and quietly padded his way down the hall. However, he stopped once he reached his mothers room. The door was open, yet barely, just enough to peer inside. She lay sleeping, her face overwhelmed by an unusual peacefulness. She didn't look so worn down, so felt a dim pang of nostalgia as he watched her sleep, confused whether or not he should leave just yet. He stepped further into the room, the pale moonlight illuminating it just enough so he could tell where he was stepping. He stopped once he reached the edge of her bed. He took pity on her as he observed her in such a serene state. This was his mother; he didn't think he could just leave her. However, no matter how hard or challenging her life had been, it didn't make up for the fact that she had put him through years and years of anguish and suffering.

He looked over the note he had written, it read:

Mom,

I'm leaving and I'm leaving for good. I'm eighteen years old and I don't need you anymore. But I guess I never really did in the first place. Don't bother looking for me because you won't find me. You'll never hear from me again and I think that it should stay that way for the best. I'm leaving the drop out forms on the kitchen table; they're all filled out and ready to be turned in. All you have to do is bring them to the school and I'll be out of your life for good. That's about all I have to say to you. Goodbye.

-Karkat

It seemed good to go; however, he added one last thing.

Ps: I don't hate you.

He may not have meant it, but what kind of son would he have been if he left his wayward mother thinking he hated her? Placing the note on the nightstand, he looked at his mother one last time. "Bye Mom," he whispered into the darkness. He quietly exited the room without another word.

Several minutes later he was heading down his street, bag in hand. He didn't once turn back.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: And that's the first chapter! This is my first fic ever so i apologize if its not all that great or if there are any typos.
> 
> Oh, and the reason I titled it Walk is I was listening to the Foo Fighters song while writing it and I couldn't think of a better title. XP


End file.
